


Come Hither

by capildissexy



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Rock and Roll, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 13:06:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5376281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capildissexy/pseuds/capildissexy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fill fic. This is set during The Magician's Apprentice in the castle. What if Colony Sarf didn't show up for a while? This is a PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Hither

Come Hither

My life isn't normal, Clara mused. Not that she wanted it to be. But it didn't hurt to have some perspective now and then.

Clara sat in the Great Hall watching the Doctor standing on the opposite end of the table playing "Dude Looks Like a Lady" on his guitar. There was a throng of medieval women at his feet cheering and screaming the chorus along with him, like the middle ages equivalent of rock groupies. Apparently, they really, really loved the word dude. Every time the Doctor came to the word 'dude' in the song, they joined in.

The ladies also seemed to like A the Doctor. Though, who could blame them? There was something about those tartan trousers, the shades, and the guitar.

And the Doctor was eating up the attention with a spoon. Though he'd always been something of an attention whore. He even hit his knees for the guitar solo, wailing on the guitar. For a moment, Clara wondered if the women were going to pelt him with knickers…if medieval women even wore them? Clara understood the impulse. Seeing him play that guitar so skillfully did bad things to her. Since his regeneration, she'd developed a fascination with his nimble fingers and watching him strum the guitar made her imagine those fingertips grazing her inner thigh.

Clara just might take off her own knickers and throw them. Ever since Christmas, they'd be doing this little dance around the subject of their friendship…their relationship. There'd been banter, flirting, and now hugging. But they'd never said the words or acted on their feelings. Sometimes, she doubted they ever would.

Ah well. Now wasn't the time. It never seemed to be the right time.

She drained the hard cider in her goblet. It wasn't bad and the tension had begun to seep from her shoulders. Today had been awful and they weren't quite out of the woods yet. Missy wasn't exactly the most relaxing company. Clara watched as the Time Lady in question pinned a knight to the wall on the opposite side of the Hall, kissing him the way she'd snogged the Doctor last year. Although, the knight seemed to be enjoying himself and they eventually disappeared upstairs together…presumably to get better acquainted. Horizontally? Ugh…what a mental image.

Clara shrugged. To each his own. Missy seemed like the black widow type to Clara. She hoped Sir Whatshisname kept his sword handy. And no that wasn't a metaphor.

The Doctor was still in danger. He seemed to be treating the matter lightly, but she knew better. He was throwing himself one hell of a blowout. Whatever was on the wind, it must be pretty damn bad.

"So, you're the Magician's Clara."

Clara glanced up to see Bors standing above her. The Doctor had introduced her earlier. The Time Lord seemed fond of the knight and Clara agreed. He was kind and gentle, despite his large size.

"He talks about me?" she asked.

His smile was warm, though he gave a long-suffering sigh. "Sir Doctor talks about little else."

Clara couldn't stop a grin from forming on her lips. She took another sip of cider. Apparently, the Doctor thought about her as much as she thought about him. Good to know.

"He has asked me to escort you to his chambers," Bors said with a courtly bow. "If you would permit me?"

Clara glanced at the Doctor again who lowered his shades and winked at her. Then, made a little pushing gesture with his free hand.

Clara sighed. She took the knight's hand, and followed Bors up to the Doctor's rooms in the castle. The castle was large and the Doctor was staying at the top of tower. His room had a fireplace, with a fur rug, a couple of writing tables, and enormous bed. The TARDIS was parked to one side of it. The room almost made Clara want to find the dress she wore when they visited Robin Hood, so she could play medieval lady for a while, but she'd better not. They weren't here for a relaxing trip. She needed to focus.

"Do you require anything, my lady?" Bors asked as he stepped toward the door.

"I'm fine," Clara said. "Thank you, Bors." He bowed and then retreated from the room.

And she explored the space. Clara could tell the Doctor had been staying here. The tables were covered in papers with scribbled equations. Pieces of alien tech were strewn everywhere. Not to mention an assortment of socks, discarded t-shirts, and other assorted flotsam. She picked all of it up and placed the bits and bobs on one table together, so he wouldn't forget anything. Evidently, the TARDIS picked up after him a lot.

Clara pulled a wooden chair up to the fire and sat down, warming her hands. Eventually, the Doctor came sweeping in the room, the guitar slung on his shoulder. His shades were still on, and he was slightly out of breath. He looked like a rock god…fresh from a concert.

Clara bit her lower lip as she stared at him.

Her stomach clenched. "So what do you think?" he asked, as he slid the guitar off and placed it on a nearby table. The intimacy of the moment struck her. She was tucked away in a bedroom with the Doctor. A bedroom with a roaring fire. And candlelight. The space was romantic…deliberately so?

Clara remembered his question. "Fishing for a compliment?"

He grinned. "Always."

I think you're amazing," she said.

He beamed at her. And Clara grinned right back at him. The Doctor loved to impress her. And she loved it when he knocked her off her feet. He really was the most impossible man.

But, they had other things to worry about.

She clapped her hands together, staying on task. "Right. Plan. Do you have one? I assume you want to talk strategy." Clara started to pace in front of the fire, hands behind her back. "Who or what is after you? Do you know?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Let me worry about all of that. This isn't why I had Bors bring you here."

She cocked her head to the side. "What? It isn't?"

"I had him bring you here…so we could be alone." He licked his lips.

Clara raised a brow.

The Doctor took off the shades and tucked them in the top pocket of his coat. He shucked it off and placed it on the tabletop. That's when Clara noticed he was aroused…the fabric tenting his trousers.

She bit her lower lip.

And the Doctor gave her a come hithery sort of smile.

Clara gaped at him.

And suddenly, the Doctor was in her personal space, standing over her. Because he was so thin, sometimes Clara forgot how tall he could be. How imposing. But his proximity reminded her.

Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

They were staring at one another. The way they did in that hallway on the mummy train. This was exactly the same sort of situation…a separation was imminent. Clara could feel it coming. The only question was…would she be a coward about this time, too? This time there was no Danny between them, no hurt feelings.

Should she ignore this tension. Or finally…finally act on it.

"And why do you want to be alone with me?" she asked, managing to keep her voice even.

A grin tugged at his lips. "While it's been a very, very long time for me, if I remember rightly, this is an activity that requires some alone time."

They were really going to do this. "Tell me."

"Do we need words? I'd rather show you," the Doctor said gravely.

"I suppose we don't…but you'll give me some anyway."

"I can't promise you much, Clara. A human and a Time Lord can't have children together. I won't be able to grow old with you." The Doctor sighed. He didn't show emotion easily, but she could read it all in his eyes…the joy, the pain. Their love would be a double-edged sword for him. He alone would have to live with the consequences.

"I know." Clara smiled, even if it a hurt little. "But you can show me the stars."

"Is that enough?" he asked, voice cracking.

"More than enough," she whispered. It was everything. Being with him, traveling with him was all that she'd ever wanted.

And then he kissed her. Properly kissed her. Not a peck on the forehead or the corner of her mouth, or the back of her hand. This time, he kissed her lips. And Clara closed her eyes, fingers sinking into the cotton of his shirts, pulling him in closer. Then they were welded against one another. She was pretty sure you couldn't fit a piece of paper between their bodies.

And it still wasn't close enough.

Clara pulled back, her heart was thundering in her chest. "We're finally going to…."

"We should have done this a very long time ago," the Doctor said. "So much wasted time."

"Because you think you're going to die?" She pushed at his chest. "To hell with that. We'll get this sorted and then we'll have some alone time."

"No."

"No?"

"No, because I always have something up my sleeve. Trust me, Clara…?"

"Always," she whispered.

"And because right now, I need to be reminded why I need to live. Give me something to fight for, Clara."

And then he backed her towards the bed, giving her plenty of time to stop him, to push him away.

Not that she would. Clara wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down on top of her. She tried to pull his t-shirts up, but he shook his head. "No time. Next time will be slow and easy."

"So sayeth the Time Lord."

But he meant it. The Doctor was all over her, hitching up her skirt, kissing her neck, sliding a palm up her thighs. The Doctor pushed the lace between her thighs aside and slid a finger into her. They both gasped.

"Why, Clara Oswald, you're wet for me."

She palmed him through his trousers, tracing the length of him, the thickness. "And you're hard." He bucked into her hand.

"Want to know something scandalous?" he asked. His voice had gone dark and deep with arousal.

"Always."

"I wanted to you earlier, on that table. Thought about bending you over it. I haven't felt like that…in ages."

Her lips twitched. "Dude."

He chuckled, his breath hot against her neck. And then he stroked her pussy. Softly at first, tracing the lips, circling her clit, until she arched against his palm. Clara dimly realized he'd had centuries of practice. He'd been married long before she was born. The Doctor knew exactly what he was doing when he touched her. With a growl, he slipped a finger inside her. "Oh, you're ready for me, aren't you?"

Clara had been ready for years. "Yesss." It came out as a hiss. She helped him push down his trousers. And then the tip of him prodded her opening. He was thick and hard, pushing into her body.

"You're tight."

"I think you're just big."

The Doctor moaned. "What every man wants to here." He slid an inch into her. "And yes, I am big."

Clara arched up. "Would I lie to you?"

"Yes."

Clara laughed. "Right back at you."

And then he hit bottom, before beginning to thrust. Clara angled her body, so her clitoris grazed his pubic bone. Then, they were racing together towards climax, like all of those endless corridors they ran down. With a cry, Clara came and the Doctor exploded a second later.

She wrapped her arms around him, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his beaky nose, and then his mouth. "If you die on me, I'll kill you."

"Right back at you," he echoed.

Whatever trouble he was in…they'd fight it. Fix it. That's what Clara and the Doctor did, after all. She had faith in him and herself. They were a damn good team.

And then they curled together on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms.


End file.
